Igloo
by WrittenSword
Summary: The prompt for this was "snow". Andrea/Miranda femslash - be warned.


**Prompt: **_Snow_

**A/N: **It's my first go at the second person narrative. I hope I'm not making too many mistakes. ^_^; Not beta-read... This was written for the femslash_today _porn battle_ over at LJ (can't post the link here, though :S)

* * *

**Igloo  
**_by WrittenSword_

The sharp features of her face are doused in a gentle golden glow from the chain of LED lights pinned above your heads, and she studies the nearly seamless craftsmanship of you and the twins with an air of wonder. It has taken nearly three days, but here you are, proudly showing off your masterpiece of a backyard igloo to the woman you love dearly, but who is generally not easily impressed.

The little string of lights has been Cassidy's idea, whereas Caroline has donated her iPod plus speakers, and the melodious curves of Brahms embrace the two of you as your gazes lock and you see definite approval in her glacial eyes. Externally illuminated by the bright winter sun, the solid blocks of snow form a canvas of ice that crowns Miranda queen of this crystal palace.

There's that smile you were hoping for, and the way the chill tickles her cheeks with tinges of red and pink makes her a beautiful, vibrant rose in a world of white. She lowers her lashes and you can almost feel how her gaze caresses your lips as she follows the lines of your full mouth. You kneel on the thick fur like two children in their secret hideout, sharing giddy looks, but afraid to speak, for it might break the magic.

You lean forward ever so slowly, her smirk inviting you, and when you hover so close that her warm breath ghosts over your cheek bones you press your nose against hers. Both your smiles widen at the silliness of Miranda Priestly sharing 'Eskimo kisses' with anyone, let alone a woman twenty-five years younger, but as you pull away and your eyes meet with a different kind of sparkle, the smiles turn into pure warmth.

She slips off her gloves and grabs your chin, and this time as your noses brush, so do your lips. Her mouth is cold, but so is yours, and as you shuffle closer on your hands and knees you welcome her tongue and greet it with tender strokes of your own. Concentrating on the kiss causes you to lean against her and she catches you with a firm grip that pulls both of you backward and onto the padded ground.

For a brief moment you revel in the softness of her coat as you allow your weight to settle on top of her, but then you realise it's too much of a barrier between you. Never losing contact with her delicious mouth you wriggle out of your gloves and then fumble with the buttons of her fur coat. A soft purr from the back of her throat is all the encouragement you need and you peel her open like a delicate present, carefully folding the edges to either side.

Before you can lower yourself back against her, a palm against your chest stops you and you break the kiss to watch her unzip your parka. For some reason Miranda loves to undress you, and the action alone, combined with the look ensconced in desire that always accompanies her eager fingers, never fails to set your entire body ablaze. Her chest heaves and her nostrils flare as she studies your choice of attire, or rather, the lack thereof.

You're glad that you did not give into fears of embarrassment or getting sick, and in the strong grip of confidence that only wearing perfectly fitting, very expensive lingerie can provide, you lean back down and capture her slack lips in a hungry kiss. She catches herself quickly, and swiftly extracting her arms from her own coat she slides them around your bare middle, pulling you down against the strained silk of her blouse.

Lips no longer bearing traces of cold you devour each other while her knee is rising up and between your thighs. You don't have time to worry about the clasps of your garter belt catching in the fabric of her slacks because the strong muscle of her upper leg presses against your centre so perfectly. She swallows up your moan and rubs her warm palms up and down your back beneath the parka.

It's entirely unfair that she gets to feel skin when you don't, and you gather yourself enough to slip practiced fingers between your chests to unbutton her blouse without separating from her lips. Her belly is scorching hot when you press your skin against hers and this time it is you who has to swallow her moan. You know you will never tire of feeling the softness of her breasts pushing against your own.

It's a bit of a struggle, but you manage to free first one, and then your other arm from their confinement, and content to leave the synthetic winter coat draped over your bare back you slide your palms up and down her sides until they stop and cup the glorious swells of her buttocks. She responds in kind and slides her fingers under the lace of your lingerie to fully grab your ass, effectively pulling you harder against her thigh.

The resulting moan breaks the kiss and you take the opportunity to look down into her eyes; two tempestuous swirls of blues and greens, the colour of the deepest and purest centre of a glacier. They are full of love and lust, and you know she will find the very same reflected in your own gaze. Just like every other time you have been intimate the intensity of the emotions nearly overwhelms you. The urge to be impossibly close to her is strong and instead of fighting it, you allow it to guide your hand as it unzips her slacks and slips under the silk without hesitation.

You find her wet and so ready, and as she bucks up against your gentle touch the pressure against your clit increases deliciously. Shifting your weight slightly off the leg between her thighs, you leave enough room for your fingers to navigate through the slick folds, which by now you know better than the back of your own hand. She moans again and as you begin to brush over her bundle of nerves her eyes close, and although she keeps them neat and trimmed, her nails dig sharply into the skin of your butt.

"Andrea..."

You're done watching her beautiful face and, you want to taste her again. So you lean down and briefly capture her now dry lips in a wild kiss that matches the strokes of your hand, before trailing worshipping kisses over the satin skin of her throat. She begins squirming beneath you. Her spine rising and falling in sensual waves that press rhythmically against your soaked thong in her blinding need to chase your fingers.

She's panting now, and your lips break contact to catch another glimpse of her marvelous body as it writhes; flushed and pleading. You love her so much that you'll give her anything she desires. Right now you know she is begging to be penetrated, deeply and firmly, and you prepare two fingers at her entrance. She gives away her anticipation with a shiver and a bite to her beautiful lower lip, and you can't wait any longer.

You drive into her in one fluid motion, your fingers immediately melting into the hot, welcoming flesh, and she groans your name. Her voice sounds strange in the constraints of your little snow bunker, but it adds to the intimacy of the moment. She feels so incredible and you lean your forehead into the curve between her neck and shoulder, where it fits perfectly, where it belongs. Her smell is strong and desire curses through you as you begin to gently curl and pump your fingers in and out.

Her hips match your rhythm and she whimpers with every push. You can tell it's not enough because she claws at your backside to somehow pull you in even more. When you push your thigh hard between her legs and against your working hand, driving your fingers deeper, her head rolls back in a loud groan, which despite everything, still makes you blush. Her unoccupied leg falls to the side as she opens herself as much as she can manage while still wearing her slacks.

"Oh, Darling..."

Your joined movements make it impossible not to ride her thigh and you moan from your own pleasure as you slide against her. There is no way your skimpy underwear is holding anything back, and for sure her designer pants will be ruined. However you know, no matter how much Miranda loves and lives fashion, she has never once mourned victimised garments after any of your past throes of passion.

You exhale hotly against the side of her neck and your breath condensates and mixes with the fine sheer of sweat which you cannot help but lap at. The taste of her breaks down any of the remaining walls and you push into her as hard and fast as you can, roughly stroking your fingertips against that sweet spot deep inside. The pressure of your thigh is driving your palm harshly against her clit, which, by now, is as hard as a pearl.

There, the telltale pulsing, and then she clenches all her muscles as she moves erratically against you, impaling herself on your aching fingers, rubbing against your hand, and as she starts to tremble in the beginnings of her climax you feel yourself being swept away in her current. She holds you impossibly close as you writhe together frantically, and you mumble all your love against her wet skin while she almost sings your name in a whispered mantra of ecstasy.

Aftershocks jolt through the entangled mass of limbs and stuck-together skin of the two of you, and your hips slow down in a last few, languid rolls, riding out the buzz until the very end, where you collapse together onto firm ground once more. For a while you simply lie together, breathing heavily, attempting to gather the many pieces into which you both have shattered. The soft piano music is almost surreal against the wild rush of blood in your ears and the pounding of racing hearts, their beats almost synchronised.

Slowly her fingers begin to stir and gently stroke over the abused flesh of your butt. She removes them from under your lingerie and draws soothing circles across your lower back. After more than a year together, you're still amazed at the never ending tenderness this woman possesses as she nuzzles your neck and sighs deeply. She inhales your essence.

"Hmmm..."

You raise your head and look down on the image of total and utter perfection. Miranda Priestly has never looked more beautiful than right now, under the diffuse, white light of the snow dome ceiling; the little string lights reflecting in her darkened eyes like stars in the midnight ocean. You use your free hand to reach up and brush a damp strand of silvery hair from her forehead and then carefully, keeping your gazes locked, you pull your fingers out of her.

As if in protest, her inner walls cling to you and you share a knowing smirk. You allow your palm to remain warm against her, still cupping her centre and she gradually brings her thighs closer together, wrapping her free leg around your hip to keep you in place.

If only this igloo wasn't made from snow and the sweat on your skin wasn't rapidly cooling off. As you look into her affectionate gaze you know you never want to leave this spot, this position, this embrace, and she doesn't either. She pulls your parka tightly down over the two of you and leans up to capture you in a sweet kiss. For now it is devoid of the previous, blinding passion; it is simply filled with love and tenderness, but you know it will keep you warm at least a little while longer.

**Fin.**


End file.
